


Nihilist's torture

by hear_me_brightroar



Series: Jaithur drabbles, works, and one-shots [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Pining, Sparring, sharing a waterskin, the """"real""" fanfiction tropes here, this is really sad and gay, wherein jaime is sad that he can't smooch arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 10:59:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19851757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hear_me_brightroar/pseuds/hear_me_brightroar
Summary: Jaime and Arthur spar, then they talk, one of them having revalations about the other.





	Nihilist's torture

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd, posted at 1:30 am, exactly planned. anyway enjoy this mess.

Jaime approached the older knight carefully, treading his step lightly, he was itching for a fight, but would let the sword of the morning bring it to him. He held the sparring sword confidently, its balanced weight was seemingly perfect to his hand. The grip on the sword was light, but he would never drop it, the sword feeling more like an extension to his arm than wood.

They encircled each other, eyeing each other up, Arthur had the slightest trace of a smile along his lips. While Jaime remained stony-faced, seemingly in deep concentration.

Arthur lunged at Jaime, who swiftly moved aside, narrowly missing the wood and Arthur’s sword hitting the air. Jaime grinned arrogantly, twirling his sword in his hands, getting himself back into position yet again. This time, he leaped forward, jabbing Arthur near the chest, the armor stopping him from piercing skin. But Arthur was strong where Jaime was limber, as the Lannister returned into a posture, he brought his sword forwards confidently, pushing against Jaime’s in a struggle for dominance. Arthur could tell that Jaime’s strength was wavering, he took advantage of that and kicked the Lannister’s feet from under him, leaving Jaime slightly dazed on the ground. Arthur laughed, reaching out to clasp Jaime’s hand as he helped him up, giving him a mock bow.

_Of course, you would do that_

“Aren’t you clever,” Jaime muttered sarcastically.

“You make a face before you lunge, easy to predict, you best work on that,” Arthur pointed out helpfully, a sincere look on his face.

Jaime nodded, looking at the other’s eyes but looking back at his feet before Arthur could notice, he was readjusting the grip on his sword, walking back to where they had started.

They circled around each other again, trading blow for blow, the younger knight was making an effort to keep his face unreadable, to let his sword do all the talking for him. Jaime felt more and more impatient as the sparring went on, so he decided to stay on the aggressive side, slashing and hashing at the other man quicker than most experienced fighters. The look on Arthur’s face was mixed with approval, pride and surprise as Jaime struck, again and again, relentless.

_Is this predictable enough, Ser Arthur?_

But the Lannister’s confidence blinded him, as he slashed at Arthur’s side, miscalculating his distance and nearly falling flat as he struck at nothing, he could hear Arthur laugh behind him. He gathered himself and swung around to meet the knight, stumbling over his own feet in the process. Arthur laid the tip of his sword against the defeated Lannister’s neck.

“Do you yield?” Arthur replied, holding back laughter.

Jaime rolled his eyes, “Get over yourself.”

“You didn’t answer my question, _Do you yield?_ ” Arthur prodded the sword at Jaime.

“Seven hells, yes I yield,” reaching out for Arthur’s outstretched hand.

They walked beside each other to a nearby bench.

Jaime sat, stretching his legs, letting out a quiet yawn, still not used to the early mornings.

“I would have thought you’d be adjusted to the schedule, by now,” Arthur remarked, not unkindly.

Jaime shook his head softly, “It’s the falling asleep _and_ staying asleep that’s harder,” the double meaning was not lost on Arthur.

“Maybe you could ask the grandmaester for a pinch of sweetsleep to put into your wine? It would give a dreamless sleep, so no nightmares.”

Jaime gave him a frown, “And get addicted to it? I’d rather not, I’ll survive without it,” he replied, rather weakly, as if not believing his own words.

“Well, if you’re sure, then I cannot stop you,” Arthur murmured, his words laced with worry for the younger man.

Arthur lifted his waterskin from the ground, lapping up the water thankfully, the heat in King’s Landing making him sweaty and thirsty, even if it didn’t compare to Dornish heat. Jaime glanced towards the waterskin, a slight longing in his eye.

“You want some?” Arthur offered, generous without thinking.

_Unlike anyone in my family, they’d glare at you for even thinking it._

Jaime reluctantly nodded, fluttering his fingers over Arthur’s as he grabbed the skin, his chest jumping slightly at the interaction. As he drank, some of the water dripped down his chin, he could hear Arthur mocking him in the background for it. He wiped his chin with the back of his calloused hand, feeling the stubble pricking him.

“You’ll soon have a full beard, I pity the woman who shall be kissing you,” Arthur japed, almost regretfully in his tone.

_Right…. Woman_

“Aren’t the Kingsguard not allowed to take no wives?” Jaime avoided what Arthur said, for fear of saying too much.

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Some Kingsguard aren’t as strict with their vows as others.”

Jaime nodded, trying to shake a chill creeping up his spine.

_Neither are kings, my dear Arthur_

“Should we get back to the white tower?” Jaime asked, the sky darkening and air cooling.

Arthur nodded, picking up the sparring swords and wrapping a cloak around himself, “Aye, best we head back, lest people worry about where we are.”

The two walked in comfortable silence, Jaime glancing at Arthur from time to time and the way his dark hair fell softly over his valyrian-like eyes, looking like half a god to Jaime. The perfect knight, the warrior personified.

_I pity the noblewomen of Dorne, the man just out of reach for them to marry, yet it isn’t always a noblewoman_

“Are you alright, you look troubled?” Arthur asked quietly, taking the back of Jaime’s neck in his hand, thumb lightly tracing lines.

Jaime could barely think, let alone answer Arthur.

“Y-Yes, I’m fine,” Jaime closed him down, trying to reassure the other man.

Arthur gave him a troubled look but let it go, giving the Lannister a wry smile.

Jaime was grateful and swallowed his feelings, as he always had done, walking towards the looming castle, dreading and yearning to spend another day with Arthur, he blinked hard, whether there was dust in his eye or a tear, he didn’t know, nor did he want to know.

**Author's Note:**

> if u didnt absolutely hate it then maybe comment uwu


End file.
